


The Nature of Kings

by Philomytha



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Action/Adventure, Colonial issues, Gen, M/M, Mystery, Politics, UST, but not only UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-25 00:55:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1623164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philomytha/pseuds/Philomytha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Prime Minister makes a visit to Komarr while Galeni is posted there, and the political becomes personal for them both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Nature of Kings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tel/gifts).



> I started writing this for Winterfair 2010 for Tel's prompt: _plotty Aral/Galeni slash, with all the issues that both of them bring to the table regarding Komarr and Imperium and daddy issues and bisexuality, etc. I would prefer this fic set entirely within the Barrayaran masculine sphere._ And only three and a half years late, I have finished it! 
> 
> Many thanks to my beta-readers, Avanti_90, Ailis_Fictive and Cahn, who all helped a lot to make this story work.

Duv lay sprawled on top of Prime Minister Vorkosigan and wondered whether all Vorkosigans carried their own personal chaos-generating field. Surely there was no other explanation for this. He hadn't had a day like this since back on Earth with Miles. Admittedly, no day which involved a state visit to Komarr by the Prime Minister was ever going to be normal, but this was exceptional.

Vorkosigan tried to raise his head, and Duv shoved him back down, moving them both sideways as nerve disruptor fire whined above them. 

It was the last day, too, Duv thought ironically. This evening Vorkosigan would be making his final, set-piece speech, and then returning to Barrayar the following morning. Duv had hoped to go to the speech. It would be a historic moment, the Barrayarans finally returning all ordinary Komarran policing to Komarran control. He didn't think he'd make it now. 

He continued to crawl out of the line of fire, pushing Vorkosigan out of the open Komarran street. This should have been a routine walkabout: the Prime Minister coming to tour a new dome in Duv's sector that was due to be opened next month. He'd volunteered to personally conduct Vorkosigan through the new section. They'd met before, most recently after Earth when he'd been summoned to a nerve-wracking interview at Vorkosigan House, and he had been hoping for a chance to talk again to the man who controlled so much of his life. And then he'd heard the nerve disruptor.

Duv hadn't been commanding Vorkosigan's security. That was the job of the Prime Minister's own ImpSec detail, and he was merely the local ImpSec sector commander. But he was ImpSec, and he was on the spot. And he had seen that there was nowhere to go and nobody he could fire back at, and he'd taken the only remaining action open to him and flung himself across Vorkosigan. 

He hadn't really wanted to die protecting the Butcher from a Komarran terrorist, but he supposed it was cosmic justice. 

He'd trained for this once, on the Personal Protection section of his ImpSec course. He could remember it all with strange crystalline clarity: Sergeant Patnos drilling them on coping with this and any other situation. How to spot an assassin, how to react, how to move into a line of fire to shield your principal. He also remembered Patnos telling him that he had to learn all this anyway, but that nobody important would ever have a Komarran assigned as his bodyguard. "Not unless they really hate somebody," he'd said, and Duv had laughed dutifully with the other trainees, because it was either laugh or rage, and besides, it was true. 

But he didn't think Patnos would find anything to criticise in the way Duv kept his centre of mass between Vorkosigan and the shooter and made him move, taking an irregular course out of the line of fire. He found the sweet spot between the buildings, and pushed Vorkosigan into it. 

That was something Patnos hadn't taught him, something he had learned long before, from his father. Right _there_ , the Komarran resistance had calculated, knowing the standard layout of dome streets and buildings, right _there_ was a spot where Barrayaran snipers on the rooftops would find you hardest to hit, a place where they didn't have a good angle of view or a good line of fire. And _there_ too, the patriots' bomb blasts were most muted. His father had drilled him in it, and it was only later that Duv had come to doubt whether Father's concern had been foremost for his son's safety--as he sent his child out into the war-torn streets alone--but rather for the safety of the messages he'd been carrying. 

In the shelter of the buildings, Vorkosigan tried to throw him off again, heaving up his shoulders so that Duv had to scrabble to pin him down. This was safer than the middle of the street with an unknown sniper aiming at them from above, but not safe enough for Duv to let Vorkosigan up. 

"Hold _still_ , damn you," Duv growled in his ear, and then realised what he'd just said to the Prime Minister. It worked, though: Vorkosigan stopped squirming. And he was probably going to be dead in the next minute, so it didn't really matter. His job was to stay here and be a human shield while the rest of ImpSec sorted this out. 

For a moment it was strangely quiet. Vorkosigan's body was hot and tense beneath him, his hair in Duv's nose and mouth, smelling of sweat and military-issue shampoo. Duv was doing his best to disregard the distracting sensations and was just thinking of raising his head enough to get a view of what was happening around him and where the damned backup had got to when the world exploded. 

Rubble rained down all around them. Duv grunted as something large and heavy landed on his back, and dust choked his eyes and mouth. Vorkosigan beneath him spluttered and coughed. Over the noise of falling debris, Duv heard a whistling noise. He'd never heard it for real before, only on training vids, but he knew what it was. The dome had been breached. His hands seemed to know what to do, and they pulled the breath mask from his belt and slid it over his head without him having to think at all. Training was a wonderful thing. 

He wiped his eyes and stared around, but the dust was so thick that nobody could see to target them. He sat up a little, enough so that he could check Vorkosigan. He was half-stunned from the explosion, and Duv grabbed Vorkosigan's breath mask, wiped futilely at his face and slid the mask over his head. 

Then he heard the sound he'd been waiting for: the roar of an aircar coming to pick them up. They should, he thought grimly, have been on the scene immediately. Heads were going to roll for this. 

Vorkosigan had heard it too, and was struggling up. Duv crouched beside him, nerve disruptor out as the other possibility reached his mind. If it wasn't ImpSec, it was the assassin, coming to finish the job. There shouldn't be any other aircars in this sub-dome, but there shouldn't have been a sniper or a bomb either. Duv pushed Vorkosigan behind him. 

The aircar landed a few metres away, making the clouds of dust boil and whirl. Duv saw many shapes leaping out, but couldn't identify them in the chaos. He kept himself between them and Vorkosigan. A blazing searchlight picked them out, and Duv blinked frantically against the dazzling beam, his nerve disruptor cocked and ready. Then he heard the buzz of a stunner, and the light abruptly went out.

* * *

The next thing he knew, he was lying down with an atrocious headache, sick and dizzy even with his eyes closed. There were voices close by.

"...want them to stay where they are. That's a direct order. My detail and the local ImpSec men have everything under control, I'm not hurt, I do not need to go up to the fleet and I do not require a couple of hundred armed soldiers here. _Hold positions_ , Commodore."

Then there was the click of a comm connection cutting out, then silence. Duv tried to peel back his eyelids, but the lights were too bright and everything hurt far too much. He heard an absurdly pitiful moan. Surely that hadn't been him?

"Ah, you're back with us. You were stunned, Captain. You'll feel better soon." The voice was low and rumbling and very close by, and a warm hand touched his forehead lightly. 

_Father._

No. Not Father. Father was dead, twice over, and he'd seen the body the second time. He'd been to two funerals. Father was dead. 

Memory began to return in fizzing spurts. He was on Komarr. The Prime Minister was visiting. They'd been touring the new section. Then... he remembered everything abruptly: the first shot, the explosion, the rescue. 

"The Prime Minister," he said, or tried to say, his tongue thick and uncooperative. "Vorkosigan. Is he--"

"I'm fine," the voice said. "We're in the saferoom under your ImpSec offices, Captain. ImpSec brought down the man with the nerve disruptor, but they're still investigating the rest of it, so I'm being locked away for the time being."

Duv had to open his eyes then, despite the pain. He looked around, and saw that he was indeed in the saferoom, in an emergency cot. Vorkosigan was sitting nearby, and as Duv turned his head, Vorkosigan moved so that he shielded Duv's eyes from the light. 

"Better?" he said. "Stunner hangover's a bitch, I know, and they said you had a bit of concussion on top of that from the explosion."

"Don't you... have to do things?" Duv asked stupidly. 

"After an assassination attempt, my ImpSec detail likes it if I sit on my hands and try not to breathe too loudly," Vorkosigan said. "Holding back the disproportionate response seems to be about as useful as I can be right now."

"I'd have thought I'd be under arrest," he said, half jest, half bitter truth. He'd been guilty of Being Komarran while standing next to the Prime Minister during an assassination attempt. 

A grim line formed between Vorkosigan's eyes. "They wanted to," he said. "Over my dead body, I told them."

More bitter truth than jest, then. Duv digested this. "I could have set it up," he said. "You ought to listen to your security, sir." 

"They ought to listen to me," Vorkosigan retorted with so much Vorish arrogance in his tone that Duv nearly laughed. "I saw your face when you shoved me down. You were expecting to be killed saving me." He frowned deeply. "I've seen that expression too many times." 

Duv closed his eyes again, because he was sure he would say more stupid things if he tried to talk. Instead, he tried to cudgel his brains into life. Someone had been shooting at Vorkosigan. He'd been caught--alive? Injured? Had he been fast-pentaed yet? And there had been an explosion. 

Without opening his eyes, he asked, "Was anyone killed?"

"The assassin, unfortunately, during his capture," Vorkosigan said. "I haven't heard about your men yet. Two ImpSec men from my detail were injured in the explosion, which took out the first backup aircar, but fortunately it was the new area that hadn't been opened yet, so there were no civilian casualties."

Yes. That was significant. There hadn't been crowds where an assassin could hide. 

"Have they ID'd the assassin?"

"Isambard Kaygill. A Komarran. Member of some underground groups. 'Justice Now', 'Freedom', a couple of others." Vorkosigan's voice was flat. "Motivation seems to be obvious."

"Yes," Duv mumbled a little tactlessly, then he realised what Vorkosigan had said. He opened his eyes again. "Kaygill? The 'Justice Now' Kaygill?"

"That's right. Your man Bouvier appears to have everything under control, Captain, don't exert yourself."

"That's impossible," Duv muttered. "They've screwed up the ID. It can't be Kaygill."

"You know of him, do you? Why can't it be him?"

"Because..." It was going to be hard to explain this when his head was exploding. With an effort he pushed himself up, leaning against the wall. Vorkosigan eyed him. "He wouldn't do this," he said.

Vorkosigan's eyes narrowed. "It seems fairly cut and dried to me," he said. "The man's been involved in one anti-Barrayaran group or another for the past thirty years. Never quite in deep enough for us to prosecute anything serious; he's spent some time in prison, but got early release. And he was arrested only three weeks ago for anti-Barrayaran activity. Why don't you think he'd do this?"

"I interrogated him after the business three weeks ago," Duv said. How could he explain this to Vorkosigan? "He'd chained himself in the doorway of the dome magistrate's office. He was protesting a very ugly case, it was all over the local news for weeks. A Komarran woman was raped and nearly killed. When she recovered enough to speak to dome police, she identified a Barrayaran man as her attacker. The police arrested him and found a considerable amount of supporting evidence, but then the man's District Count overrode the magistrate and refused to permit the man to be tried here. And when the woman tried to take the charges to him in his home District, the Count refused to hear her on the grounds that she was living with a man but wasn't married to him and was therefore an unreliable witness. This appears to be acceptable under Barrayaran law. She's currently trying to appeal to the Imperial Counsellor, but... nobody has much hope that anything will happen. Kaygill's 'Justice Now' was backing her, and Kaygill was protesting about it." Carried forwards by his own thoughts, he went on half to himself, "The justice system here falls apart whenever Barrayarans are involved."

Vorkosigan frowned at him. "It's a hard problem," he said. "I don't want a two-tier system."

"You already have one. You could have a slightly less unjust two-tier system, if you chose. Komarrans are entirely subject to local Barrayaran law if we travel there."

"So you'd have me introduce Barrayaran law across the entire planet here? There'd be another revolt."

"You only stopped chopping the hands off thieves twelve years ago," Duv said with distaste. "Prole thieves, of course; Vor thieves apparently don't exist on Barrayar. I'd have you introduce Komarran law across the entire empire if I could."

Vorkosigan gave a short laugh. "I really would be shot down in the streets if I tried that," he said. "I've had a whole series of legal committees looking at precisely this question for the past four years, trying to find something I can get past the Council of Counts. It's a hard problem." He shook himself, his face turning grim. "And it's beside the point. If the injustices are as real as you seem to believe, that's all the more motive for him to try to kill me."

"No," Duv said, with emphasis. "Kaygill was utterly committed to non-violent protest. He always has been, all his life. He would no more try to assassinate you than, than, than I would."

Vorkosigan looked at him shrewdly. "Always?" he echoed. "Do you know that for a fact?"

Along with the chaos-generating field, Duv wondered dully, perhaps Vorkosigans were also issued with x-ray vision. It would explain a lot. "He was one of my father's associates. From when I was a boy. They used to have the most appalling arguments. He wanted my father to join in his peaceful protests, my father thought he was an idiot, but he had a lot of connections and support, so my father couldn't just ignore him. But things went the way my father wanted, and Kaygill wound up on the fringes. But he wouldn't do this, sir. I'm sure of it."

"Well," Vorkosigan said quietly, "they found him on the spot the shooter was, holding a nerve disruptor. That's a lot of evidence to get around."

"How did he even get a nerve disruptor?" Duv asked. "He certainly never had any weapons before. Apart from all the local and galactic media outlets on speed-dial on his commlink."

"Oh, one of those, was he?" Vorkosigan muttered in distaste. "Give me a nerve disruptor any day of the week."

"I need to get back to my desk," Duv said, pushing himself to his feet. The thumping pain in his head redoubled and black spots swelled in his vision. He felt Vorkosigan's hands seize him and guide him firmly back onto the cot. 

"Stay there, Captain. You've played your part, I'm sure they'll manage fine without you."

He pushed Duv back, and Duv could not resist. "My superior," he muttered, "will not see things this way. When I don't report in--"

"I guarantee, Captain, that no matter how much of a hard-ass your superior officer is, he will forgive you for being injured in the course of saving my life."

"I wasn't," Duv pointed out. "It was your ImpSec detail who stunned me." His head throbbed sickly as a reminder, and he squeezed his eyes closed, but it didn't help. 

"They do that kind of thing sometimes," Vorkosigan agreed. "You were between them and me and you were holding a nerve disruptor."

"They could have been anyone," Duv said defensively. "I couldn't have done anything else."

"You acted correctly, Captain. Don't worry about it. If your superior needs handling, I'll handle it."

The Vorkosigan patronage network at work again, Duv thought. He gave up arguing and lay back. Vorkosigan got up and began to move through the room, which was both a saferoom and a secure command and control centre for his ImpSec department, now humming with activity. Duv watched. His men seemed more alive, more themselves, when Vorkosigan spoke to them, more alert and dedicated to their work. The Vorkosigan Effect, Duv thought, only half ironically. Miles had had something of that ability, enough that Duv recognised the similarity, but not enough that they were identical. The Admiral was like a blazing sun to Miles's bonfire. 

He tried to analyse it, helplessly. His father would have called it arrogance: Vorkosigan knew with utter heartstopping certainty that he was the most important and powerful person in the room, on the planet, and it was as if this belief transmitted itself to everyone around him. And that was part of it, no doubt, but there was more. When Vorkosigan looked at the men, he seemed to fully see them, and know them. Not as Captain Illyan did, with his cool gaze that made it clear that he knew every minuscule detail there was to know about you from your silliest childhood pranks to your guiltiest secrets. Vorkosigan looked on the men as a lover, as a parent, as a father, as if he saw in each one their best desires and their noblest ambitions and their most honourable moments and loved them for it. 

It was nothing Duv could replicate. He could get respect and basic loyalty from the men, at least after he broke through the inevitable distaste at having a Komarran placed above them, but he couldn't win their love like that. And he'd barely been here long enough to get more than the respect due to his rank--Barrayaran military discipline being good for something, at least. It aggravated him to think that the support Vorkosigan had shown him would probably improve that. 

Vorkosigan was talking with Duv's second-in-command now, Commander Bouvier. Bouvier was practically turning cartwheels to impress the Prime Minister, Duv saw, demonstrating his competence and loyalty in every possible way. He wasn't surprised. Bouvier was a good officer, but he'd expected to get command of this ImpSec post by right of seniority and exemplary service. Instead Duv had been parachuted in from HQ over his head, and to add insult to injury he was a Komarran. Bouvier was impeccably correct and crisp, but he also made it plain that if Duv was falling off a cliff, he wouldn't offer his hand. Of course he'd be happy to have acting command of this urgent situation. 

Duv watched a while longer as Vorkosigan wandered off to peer over the shoulder of his communications officer, then tried again to get up. He still felt sick and weak and his head ached, but he was commanding this ImpSec outpost, and there had been a major incident, and he had to take responsibility. He crossed the room and joined Bouvier and his third officer, Lieutenant Zelanov. 

"Get me up to speed, then," he said to Bouvier. "You've killed the presumed shooter?"

Bouvier frowned at this. "Presumed shooter--well, if you insist. But he was on the spot where the shooter was with a nerve disruptor in his hand, and our first response team took him down. Zelanov got him, actually."

"And the bomb?"

"Kalos and his squad are examining the site, and Colonel Vorchester is sending us a specialist team from Solstice HQ. We have a cordon around the entire dome for a mile radius around."

"But whoever it was, they penetrated our security cordon once," Duv observed. "What precautions have you taken to avoid a repeat? I want the Prime Minister to remain in a fully secured location, preferably here, with his personal guard. I think moving him is too much of a risk without a larger force." He recalled Vorkosigan's conversation with the space forces. "I'd prefer to do this without a military presence, but you'd better get in touch with Colonel Vorchester again and see if we could get the authorisation if we need it."

He leaned on the table, head still swimmy from the stun, and Bouvier said, "Sir, perhaps you should stay on the sicklist and let me handle this."

It sounded kindly, but Duv knew exactly what lay beneath. He bared his teeth in a smile and said, deliberately not moving from his supported posture, "Oh no. I have a personal interest in this one now."

Bouvier subsided. 

"So, Kaygill," Duv went on. "How did he get mixed up in this?"

Zelanov gave him a long, thoughtful look. "We called on a lot of our usual suspects last night with a search party, beyond the few we've put in precautionary detention," he observed, "but not Kaygill, because of the notations on his file which said he was very low-risk for violence." He didn't add that Duv had put those notations there himself. He didn't need to. Especially since Bouvier's speaking glance did it for him.

Duv said nothing too, because there was no point. He could see the whole story now: his partiality towards his fellow Komarrans had led him to ignore a dangerous threat, which had resulted in an assassination attempt on the Prime Minister. He supposed he should consider it an improvement that he was only being accused of incompetence now--and anyway, partiality towards one's own was practically a virtue on Barrayar. 

He shook himself. ImpSec was his own now. "Is everyone accounted for? The Prime Minister said he had two casualties amongst his men--what about us?"

"Robbins has a broken arm, and there are three other minor injuries. And Private Tsolakoglou is missing, sir," Bouvier said.

Duv stood up straight. "What? Why didn't someone tell me at once?"

"It just came through a few minutes ago, sir," Zelanov said. "Apparently he'd swapped into the rota at the last minute, and when they did the check they used the old one because the system update hadn't gone through, so it wasn't picked up on at the first count, only when he didn't show up back here. He was stationed on the perimeter, position B-6." 

"Was he abducted? Killed? A hostage?" Duv demanded. "AWOL?" _Was he involved in this?_

"I've got men looking through that now, trying to track his movements," Bouvier said. "We'll let you know when we find something." 

Duv frowned at him. Tsolakoglou had been one of his more difficult soldiers, the only Greek in the sector security unit, who had not endeared himself to his comrades by insisting on speaking Greek at every possible opportunity. Duv had come down hard on anything that looked like bullying, but was painfully aware that as an outsider of a different sort, he was missing half the subtext of the men's interactions. And now he had disappeared.

"Hm," he said. "Well, that seems like it might explain how our assassin got through." He rubbed his head, then regretted it when it made the ache worse. "What about the bomb? Materials, blast pattern, anything?"

"Seems to have been the standard, sir," Zelanov said. "The Rebel's Special."

Duv thought back to that moment, adrenalin-soaked memory imprinted in his mind. He hadn't noticed anything particular about the blast. He looked down at the map. It had been intelligently positioned to cause maximum damage to the structure of the dome and to impede all the possible rescue routes of approach by the ImpSec response. And if Kaygill had possessed the knowledge to plant it so accurately, Duv would be very surprised. That took skill and training. Even if Kaygill had planned this, there had to have been an accomplice for this. Kaygill had been a political theorist, not an engineer.

An accomplice--or a setup? Could Kaygill have been the one left to take the fall, duped by some greater set of conspirators? Or could he possibly have been there by accident, or for some peaceful protest of his, and been shot by ImpSec by mistake? It certainly wouldn't be the first time ImpSec's aim had been a little wide of the mark, he thought with a twinge of old, bone-deep bitterness. That had been the immediate cause of the Revolt, when ImpSec had been raiding a building they'd believed had contained a terrorist cell, and had screwed up by the numbers and wound up killing a family of five, children included. The next day the protests had begun, and the day after that, the violence. Duv knew that many of the patriots--the rebels, he corrected his thought--had been waiting for just such a suitable event to exploit, and had pounced on this one with indecent glee, but nonetheless. Could they be looking at a repeat? 

"Hm," Duv said. "And you don't have anything on the hole in our security cordon yet. Could anything else have been planted within our secured area? Is there a second wave?" 

The hole in his security worried him badly. This should have been easy to secure: uninhabited space, no local residents to cope with, controlled access, no loopholes to exploit. But something had happened to one of the guards, and nobody knew what. Something more subtle than shooting him and pushing through to shoot at Vorkosigan, evidently. 

There was a second possible explanation, but Duv's mind shied away from it. There had been plenty of people around: ImpSec men. If anyone under his command was disaffected, surely it was Tsolakoglou. And inside support would explain a lot about this, but that meant the danger could be right in front of them. Instinctively, Duv glanced around for Vorkosigan, and saw him talking to his personal ImpSec security commander, Major Tomlinson. Was Vorkosigan safe here?

At Duv's look, Vorkosigan and Tomlinson came towards them, and Duv and his officers straightened to attention. Vorkosigan was standing a little back, just observing, and Duv turned his attention to the Major.

"Is there anything you require of us, sir?"

Tomlinson was obviously torn between utter gratitude to Duv for saving his principal, and fury that this had happened on Duv's watch, but he was one of Illyan's handpicked men, and he only said, "Under the circumstances, I'd like the Prime Minister to remain here on ground that ImpSec controls absolutely. The hotel we had planned to take over tonight is within the oxygen-depletion zone in any event, so that's unusable now."

"We don't have a visiting Admiral's quarters here, this is only a small post," Duv said. He paused, considering the accommodation available on-site, and reached the inevitable conclusion. "The Prime Minister would be welcome to make use of my apartment, of course."

"I don't want to take your--" Vorkosigan began, at the same time as Tomlinson said, "That would be fine, thank you." They looked at each other, and Vorkosigan made a wry face and opened his hand to Tomlinson. "Since you say I should listen to my ImpSec guards, Captain Galeni..."

Duv gave a small snort. 

"What about my afternoon and evening engagements?" Vorkosigan put in. "We've missed the presentation already, but there's the reception and speech this evening."

"It's possible that there is still an accomplice at large," Duv said. "I do not recommend leaving this post until that has been resolved." 

Tomlinson looked both relieved and a little impressed at the local ImpSec man standing up to the Prime Minister. Practice on Miles hadn't really prepared him for Vorkosigan, Duv thought grimly, but it gave him an idea of the shape of the problem.

"And I'd like you to keep at least one ImpSec man with you at all times," Tomlinson added, taking advantage of the opening.

"My dear cockroaches," Vorkosigan muttered, but it seemed to be a term of affection, because Tomlinson only gave the ghost of a smile and said, "Precisely, sir." 

They faded a step backwards, continuing to observe but no longer part of the conversation. 

"Orders, sir?" Bouvier said, dragging Duv's attention back from Vorkosigan. There was a hint of challenge in his eyes. _Are you really up to this?_

Duv bared his teeth in return, then took a breath. "First things first," he said. "Miryam Etters. Kaygill's partner," he added for Vorkosigan's benefit. "We'll need to break the news to her and question her. Call up Captain Tabi and request him to go to her apartment and bring her in to us, please."

"Tabi?" Bouvier echoed. "You don't want the damned Komarran municipals in on this--"

"Tabi," Duv repeated, leaning forwards a little. "The woman's just lost her partner of the last thirty years. Let's not break her door down too. Not as long as she cooperates."

"But--" Bouvier began.

Behind Duv, Vorkosigan cleared his throat. Bouvier's mouth closed. Duv clenched his fists at his sides and forced himself not to turn around and glower at Vorkosigan. Damn it, he didn't need the Prime Minister cracking the whip behind him to make his men obey their orders. If he did, he shouldn't be in command in the first place.

"Yes, sir," Bouvier bit out and went off to make the call. 

Duv did glare at Vorkosigan then, and Vorkosigan looked back blandly. "It's my policy," he murmured. 

"My men, sir," Duv retorted. 

Vorkosigan made a slight conceding gesture, the hint of a smile in his eyes. 

"Sir. We've set up a secured comconsole for you, and the Imperial Counsellor is waiting," Major Tomlinson interrupted this fraught exchange. 

"Ah, well. I guess my little holiday is over." He grinned suddenly at Duv. "It's practically the only way I get unscheduled holidays these days, if someone takes a pot-shot at me and ImpSec cancels everything. But my secretaries re-route around them quickly. I'll see you later, Captain."

Duv stood to attention as Vorkosigan followed his ImpSec man back to work, then went to review Miryam Etters's file before she arrived. She'd supported Kaygill in his politics throughout their lives. Duv remembered her too from his childhood, having dinner with his father, giving him sweets. She had fewer convictions and hadn't spent time in prison. Duv wasn't sure whether this indicated slightly less participation in protests or a Barrayaran hesitation to suspect or arrest women. 

It was about fifteen minutes before Miryam Etters arrived, escorted by two men in Solstice Dome Security uniforms and an ImpSec guard. She was a woman in her late sixties--though to Barrayaran eyes she would look younger. Now she mostly looked flustered and angry. Not grief-stricken, Duv noticed, and knew she hadn't been told anything yet. That was going to be his job. 

"If you'll step into my office," Duv murmured. She looked at him in recognition.

"Captain Galeni," she said icily, "why have I been detained? Nobody has told me anything about what's going on. I have a right--"

"Please, sit down," Duv interrupted. "Thank you," he added to the guards, and they were left alone.

She sat opposite him, looking at him more closely, and said, "You look like hell, David. What is all this?"

Duv stiffened and lowered his brows at her, and she looked away. "Sorry. Duv."

That was the trouble with interrogating people he'd known as a child. But it was part of his job now, and he had to be able to do it and have his authority respected.

"Ms Etters," he said quietly, "I'm sorry to have to tell you that Isambard is dead."

That, he thought, the notion bitter-black in his mind, put paid to any of her teasing of him. He sat still and waited for her to process what he'd said. Her face didn't change at first, concealed behind the stern and angry mask she'd worn since being detained. Her eyes glistened, but she swallowed and did not cry.

"What happened?" she said after a minute of silence. "Why did you bring me here to tell me?"

"I'd like you to answer some questions for me first, before I explain that," Duv said. "When did you last see Isambard?"

"This morning," she said in confusion. "What happened? What did you do to him?" A cogent question, Duv thought.

"This morning when?" he went on implacably.

"Breakfast. We had eggs," she put in. "He cooked them. He's a good cook." A tear did escape then, and she looked away, then retreated from grief to anger. "For God's sake, Duv, tell me how ImpSec is mixed up in this!"

"Where did Isambard go after breakfast?"

"To see a man, he said. Something about the latest case. You know the one," she added bitterly, "you were interrogating him about it a few weeks ago."

"Did he say who?"

"No." She put her hands over her face for a moment, then said, "It might have been the man who came to see him yesterday evening."

"And who was that?"

"I didn't see him. He came when I was in the bath, and he talked to Isambard for a bit, and then he went away and Isambard came up to bed." 

"And you've neither seen him nor heard from him since breakfast?"

"Well, how could I, if he's dead?" she bit out. "What. Happened?!" 

"Isambard was shot by ImpSec officers. He was inside our security cordon, firing a nerve disruptor at the Prime Minister. He missed," he added, "though he damn near got me. Our rapid response team killed him."

He watched carefully to see how she took this. Incomprehension, followed by furious disbelief. "That's bullshit," she said. "What the hell would he be shooting at the Prime Minister for? He doesn't even _have_ a nerve disruptor!"

"I assure you," Duv said, "I was there." He rubbed the raw contusion across his cheek. This evidence of his story seemed to quell her, but she said more quietly, "It's not possible. You know it's not possible."

"It happened."

They stared at each other in mutual frustration. The silence was broken by a sharp double knock on the door. Duv grimaced and said, "Yes?" but before he'd spoken, the door opened and Vorkosigan entered.

Duv leapt to his feet. "Sir," he said, his tone not the least subordinate, "you can't come in here!"

The ImpSec guard following at Vorkosigan's heels looked like he wanted to say the same thing. Miryam was pale and still. 

Vorkosigan quirked his brow at Duv. "Oh?"

"I am questioning someone who may be connected with the assassination attempt on you!" Duv continued. "The security risk--"

Vorkosigan gazed at Miryam. "You planning to try to kill me right now?" he asked quietly. Not waiting for an answer, he pulled up a chair, turned it around and sat astride it at Duv's left hand. The guard took up a frozenly unhappy station by the door, eyes fixed on Miryam. "My condolences on the death of your partner," Vorkosigan added.

Miryam looked like she wanted to spit at him but didn't quite dare. She didn't meet his eyes. 

"Continue, Captain," Vorkosigan said, resting his arms across the chair back. 

"I'm afraid I now need to question you under fast-penta, to confirm this," Duv told Miryam, trying to ignore Vorkosigan. He wasn't an easy man to ignore. 

She said nothing, her eyes flickering down. Her records showed she'd been questioned under fast-penta before, more than once, so it wouldn't be too much of a shock for her. He took the interrogation case from his desk drawer. 

"Don't you need my consent?" she asked.

"Refusal to give consent gives me a reason to arrest you, under these circumstances," he answered with a grimace. "Currently you are here as a witness. If you refuse consent you become a suspect. Do you consent?" 

She gave another covert glance at Vorkosigan, then muttered, "Yes. Go on." 

"Thank you," Duv said formally, retreating into polite efficiency as he took out the patch test. Since she'd had the drug before, it was unlikely to show up anything, but he was going to do this by the book. Besides, if by some chance she'd had the allergy implanted since then, that would be a very important bit of evidence. But the test was clear. 

Duv pressed the hypospray to Miryam's arm, forcing himself to ignore Vorkosigan completely, the way he'd ignored invigilators during an exam. As the drug kicked in, Miryam began to cry, the inhibitions that had been holding her back removed. Duv gave her a packet of paper tissues and settled her into the rhythm of the interrogation. She responded steadily, her tears fading as he drew her thoughts along the avenues he wished to explore. Did she know where Isambard had gone this morning, did she know why, did she know what his plans had been? Had she--his efforts to not-look at Vorkosigan increased--wanted him to kill Prime Minister Vorkosigan, had she asked him, had he ever spoken to her about killing him? This gave the first interesting answer.

"Yes," she said. 

The guard at the door twitched.

"We talked about it when the Kowalskis and Dan Parsee were over for dinner."

"When was that?" 

"Oh, about nine months ago. It was the end-of-term dinner for the faculty at the university." 

"And what did you say?"

"I said it was a stupid idea because there were lots more where Vorkosigan came from and most of them were worse."

Now Duv didn't dare look towards Vorkosigan. "And Isambard?"

"He agreed with me."

"Did anyone there want to assassinate Prime Minister Vorkosigan?"

"No. Dan thought it was a nice dream, but even he didn't actually want to do it. He's a coward," she added. "He's scared of ImpSec. He's scared of dogs too. Our neighbours have a puppy--"

"Stop," Duv said. He made a note about Dan Parsee, then continued, "Tell me what Isambard did last night."

She told him essentially the same story as before, with more details, none of them relevant. "The man was whistling when he left," she finished, and launched into a few bars.

"Stop," Duv said again before she could burst into song, remembering how Miles had derailed a fast-penta interrogation that way. But the humming continued. It was a moment before he realised it was Vorkosigan.

" _The Maid of the Moor_ ," Vorkosigan said. "It's an old Barrayaran folk song."

Duv frowned and noted that down as well, then returned to his questioning. But the answers were still the same: she had no idea where Isambard had gone today, she had no idea that any violence was planned, she didn't believe he wanted to hurt the Prime Minister, she didn't know how he could have got there. Duv finally wound down. 

"Anything you want to add, sir?" he asked Vorkosigan, who shook his head. Duv administered the antagonist and waited for it to take effect. Miryam put her hands over her face, and Duv heard her ragged breathing. He looked away and made a few pointless notes on the file. 

"I don't see any reason to continue holding you at this time, Ms Etters," he said at length, when she had sat up and was looking at him again. "I would like you to go down to our medical department and confirm the identification of the body and discuss what arrangements may be necessary after they finish the forensic examination."

"Have you ordered a post-mortem?" Vorkosigan asked. "Given the circumstances. If he wasn't killed by that disruptor blast..."

"Yes, there will be a post-mortem, which will delay things for you, I'm afraid, Ms Etters."

Miryam took a deep breath. "I want there to be a post-mortem. And your forenics, and the rest of it. I'm absolutely certain he didn't do it." 

Duv inclined his head gravely. "We will investigate everything." 

"ImpSec," she muttered. The corners of her mouth drew up for a moment. Duv tapped a signal into his comm, and a moment later the door opened. 

"Sergeant, will you show Ms Etters down to sickbay," he said. "She is Isambard Kaygill's next-of-kin. After she's finished with you, she's free to go. Please make sure she gets home safely." 

"Thank you," Miryam whispered to him. She followed the sergeant away, and Vorkosigan leaned back in his chair, but said nothing. Duv looked back down at his files to avoid having to look at Vorkosigan, but he could feel him as if there were a blazing Barrayaran bonfire in the room, radiating at him.

"That's one in favour of your view," Vorkosigan said at last. "If he did it, she certainly doesn't know. Interesting about the visitor singing Barrayaran folk-songs."

Duv shook his head. "A surprising number of Komarrans are fascinated by Barrayaran traditions and antiquities. The lure of the alien, I suppose. I recall--" He cut himself off. Vorkosigan raised an eyebrow, and he reluctantly continued, "I recall one of my father's ... associates who collected Time-of-Isolation paper books. An expensive hobby." 

Vorkosigan snorted. "Some of Cordelia's friends on Beta liked these dreadful romantic novels set on Time-of-Isolation Barrayar. At least, their version of it. She used to read them to me sometimes, and we played spot-the-mistakes." His smile softened. "They were very Betan." 

"I know the style," Duv said, his eyes crossing at the mental image of Vorkosigan and his wife reading bad romantic novels together. "They tend to sanitise the style of government." 

"Is that what you'd call it? Make it completely inaccurate, I'd say."

"People often find bloody executions spoil the fun of a romantic novel."

"Not on Barrayar." 

Having studied ancient Barrayaran literature, looking for historical titbits, Duv couldn't argue with that. No Barrayaran romance was complete without multiple deaths, blood, executions and questions of loyalty and betrayal. 

"But it doesn't get us any closer to figuring out what was going on. I'll tell you the one thing that makes me think it could have been Kaygill: he kept missing. Someone more experienced would have been a better shot."

"True," Vorkosigan said. "I recall thinking that at the time. Not to say that you weren't doing an excellent job getting us out of the line of fire," he added. "But even well-trained reflexes don't compare well to energy weapons. What was the line of fire like from his vantage point?"

"Not the best," Duv said, recalling the plans, "but it should have been adequate." 

"Hm." Vorkosigan was silent for a moment, and Duv wasn't sure whether he hoped Vorkosigan would leave and let Duv get on with his work, or wanted him to stay and talk. "There is one other possibility," Vorkosigan went on. "The target could have been you." 

Duv blinked at Vorkosigan for a minute. "I suppose so," he said. He had certainly been the recipient of less lethal attacks from both Barrayarans and Komarrans. "But if someone wanted to get me, there are a lot of easier opportunities than when I'm under your security umbrella. When I'm in the bar around the corner, for instance, or out running. It's a lot of unnecessary effort to do it that way. Riskier, too, more likely to be investigated with complete thoroughness. Unprofessional, and some of this was very professional. Though not the aim." 

"Perhaps," Vorkosigan said. "Nonetheless, don't leave it out of your investigation altogether, please, Captain." He got to his feet then, but didn't move to the door. "One further thing. I will be giving the speech tonight, regardless of how your investigation has gone. I came all the way out here to give that speech, and I'm not going to be prevented by any imbeciles with nerve disruptors. Is that clear?" 

"Yes, sir," Duv said, responding to the tone rather than the words by spinal reflex. He opened his mouth to add an objection as his consciousness caught up with his reflexes, but Vorkosigan looked him in the eye, and Duv closed his mouth again. But a moment later he managed, "I expect Major Tomlinson will have a view on that, sir." 

Vorkosigan's expression wavered into a half-smile, then back to sternness. "Undoubtedly. However, there are some privileges of rank, and I shall enjoy them." He turned to the door, and the guard opened it for him, then looked back and gave Duv an unexpected smile. "Good hunting, Captain," he said, and went back to his work. 

It was a full minute before Duv could concentrate on his notes. He followed up the references from the interrogation, wrote a brief summary and saved it along with the recording and auto-transcript, then called up the latest reports from the rest of the investigation. It was his job to keep on top of everything while all of ImpSec ran around trying to investigate everything at once. But his in-folder was empty. Duv frowned at the screen for a minute, then dug into the archives, and realised that all the reports were still going to Bouvier alone. Half a bloody hour of unconsciousness, he thought grimly, and his second started cutting him out of the loop. He pressed his palm to the read-pad and sent the counter-order with a sigh, then considered calling Bouvier in to explain himself. But Bouvier would no doubt say it was all a mistake, he was very busy... it was all perfectly understandable, except that Duv knew very well it was deliberate. 

Besides, he would hardly get better work out of Bouvier by raking him over the coals in the middle of a crisis. Duv retrieved all the reports and began to triage them. New data was coming in from all over: lists of known anti-Barrayaran agitators in the sector and all their with their recent movements were coming in from the other ImpSec sub-sectors in Solstice; the sector border guards' reports on activity; a harrassed memo from the shuttleport manager wanting to know how long the lock-down would stay in place; a preliminary analysis on the blast pattern from the bomb from Zelanov that confirmed most of what he had said about that earlier, with sheets of data embedded... a mountain of information that all had to be searched and analysed for clues. 

He was little more than halfway through when there was a knock at his door, and Lieutenant Bouvier came in.

"Sir, we've found Tsolakoglou." 

He didn't look happy. Duv closed the file and faced him. "And?"

"He was shot with a nerve disruptor. His body was hidden with some waste from the construction of the dome, not far away." 

"Ah." Duv grimaced. He'd hardly known Tsolakoglou well, but he had been under Duv's command, and now he was dead. "At least it seems he wasn't part of this plot."

"No, sir. Killed in the line of duty." Bouvier too looked relieved at this, and that made Duv decide not to bring up the issue of the reports. Bouvier was an ass about some things, but he was a decent officer. "All right. I want you to stay here and bring a fresh perspective to these reports. I'm going to go out and see how the investigation is progressing on the site and talk to the people there. And get a look at exactly what happened to Tsolakoglou, too. And then I'll write to his next-of-kin." Not one of the duties of command that had come his way before, in peacetime on Barrayar and Earth. 

Bouvier nodded. "Yes, sir." 

"I'd better go and notify the Prime Minister about the death, too. He'll want to be kept up to date." He stood up. "Have a car and driver ready for me in ten minutes, please." 

Bouvier went about his duties, and Duv went in search of Vorkosigan. He tracked the Prime Minister by the pair of unfamiliar guards outside the door of the second basement office, and knocked. 

"Enter!" 

Duv went in. Vorkosigan was talking to Major Tomlinson and scribbling notes at the same time; Duv suspected the notes were about something completely different from the conversation.

"... all right, you can revise the list as much as you like. Get someone from HQ Analysis to check all the names again, and let them sort out notifying people. The boys here have enough to do. Yes, Captain?"

"Sir," Duv said. "I'm afraid my missing man has been found. He was killed, sir." 

Vorkosigan bowed his head in acknowlegement. "I'm sorry to hear that. What was his name?"

"Antonios Tsolakoglou. Private first class. He was guarding the perimeter, and our assassin appears to have shot him to clear his way through."

"Shit," Vorkosigan muttered. "Give his details to my secretary, please, Captain. There's a special fund for the families of men killed in my defence as well as Gregor's. What family does he have?"

"Parents, sir, and three sisters. Might be a girlfriend. He didn't talk much." 

Vorkosigan grunted. "And you still think Kaygill wasn't responsible for this?"

Duv quailed a little from the look in his eyes, but he'd had a lot of practice at speaking his mind to angry older men. "I can't square it with my knowledge of him, sir."

"I see. How are you getting on?"

"I'm about to go back out to the site and have a look at how the investigation there is going."

"Oh," Vorkosigan said. "That's a good idea. There's something nagging at the back of my mind, Captain. I think I saw something, but I'm not sure what. Going back and walking around a bit might help dislodge it. Damn it, Simon's always underfoot, and then when I need someone with a perfect memory around he's not here," he added grumpily. 

"Uh--" Duv hesitated, looking at Major Tomlinson. 

"You want to go back to the spot where someone tried to shoot you and then blow you up," Major Tomlinson said in a flat voice. "Sir," he added as a distinct afterthought. 

"I expect the density of ImpSec agents per cubic metre is higher there than anywhere else on this planet right now," Vorkosigan countered. "It's perfectly safe. And I need--well, not fresh air, exactly, on Komarr, but a chance to stretch my legs. Unless you want to change your mind about letting me go to the reception..."

Tomlinson grunted. "Very well, sir." He began to speak into his commlink.

"You may as well ride with me," Vorkosigan said. "Your men must be working flat out." 

"All leave was cancelled even before you came," Duv said. "Colonel Vorchester has sent us the flying squad and some specialists from HQ to take some of the strain off. The structural engineer's been over the site, by the way, and certified it safe, or else none of us would be out there poking around in the rubble. And they've patched the dome with an emergency seal, but make sure you have a breath mask to hand, even if you don't wear it." 

Vorkosigan nodded absently, and Duv had the distinct feeling he was being humoured. But he made arrangements, and within ten minutes he was getting into the rear of Vorkosigan's groundcar. They set off down the sub-dome service tunnels, the only way to get around by groundcar on Komarr. The tunnels were forbidden to anyone without an ImpSec escort until the Prime Minister was gone, causing a vast amount of headache to the dome's maintenance staff even before the explosion; now nobody apart from ImpSec themselves were getting in. 

"It's been a while since any Komarran terorrists have got so close to me," Vorkosigan remarked. "I was starting to forget what it felt like. The last one that really gave Illyan hives was when there was that bomb outside my office. They send parcel bombs all the time, of course; I don't know whether they're stupid enough to think that my mail doesn't go through multiple levels of screening, or if they're really targeting my security, but it's more of a nuisance than a threat, these days. Well, and then there was your father, of course," he added.

Duv went still, gaze flickering to the driver and bodyguard in the front seats. Vorkosigan's detail was discreet, and many people in ImpSec knew about his father now, but...

Vorkosigan seemed to realise his mistake, for he went on, "Don't worry, Captain. We all have these awkward connections. You study history, so you probably know the story of the third Count Vorkosigan. He was executed for treason, the full works. After that there was only the son of the fifth Count, who supported the pretender against Emperor Rulf II, but he was killed in battle, so they didn't have to execute him. You must know the story."

Duv did, and he didn't think Vorkosigan was trying to entrap him, but he still said, almost primly, "It isn't on any syllabus, sir." The misdeeds of House Vorkosigan, even in the distant past, was not an acceptable field of study on Komarr, and on Barrayar he'd been heavily warned off the one time he'd shown any interest in the topic. But he'd found some interesting references in older books, written before the Vorkosigan clan rose to power and they stopped being discussed except in the most flattering terms in history books. 

"Syllabus?" Vorkosigan echoed. "Why would it be on a syllabus?"

"It's an interesting story in Barrayaran history, from a time when the balance of power between the Counts and the Emperor was very different to what it is today." They didn't teach much of that on Barrayar: the official history, suitable for schoolchildren, had the Emperors as a constant core of virtue and honour while the wicked Counts threw Barrayar into bloody disaster and had to be tamed by the great Dorca. Which wasn't a completely false description of the end of the story, but the start had been something quite different. "It would be an interesting case to compare with Vordarian's attempted coup. And besides, it's always good to be aware that the political realities of today are not eternal truths." 

Vorkosigan's brows lowered. "Hm. Well, it may be an interesting story for students, but for us it's our family shame. Do you want your father on a history syllabus?" 

So, Duv thought dimly, this is why this man has a reputation as a dirty political fighter. He choked back his gut reaction and thought about it as calmly as he could. Would he want his father to appear on the syllabus, his final crazed plots laid out, his death at the hands of his own creation while his turncoat son looked on... would the truth as he had seen it even appear in history books, once the story was interpreted and reorganised and arranged for analysis? 

"No," he said at last, "I don't. But I don't think I should be the person to make that decision." It made him cold inside to think it, but he went on, "I expect it would be valuable information for later scholars." 

"As it happens, I didn't get involved in the details of the syllabus. Cordelia had some committees working on the science syllabuses, bringing them up to galactic standards, but it was Vortala's Ministers who dealt with the humanities. You'll say that doesn't matter because they were doing it with their eye on me. Perhaps I should have tried to bribe Cordelia into doing all of them, because she'd be leading the charge for teaching everyone about every wart and imbecile in my family tree for a dozen generations." He sounded rather proud and pleased about that, which baffled Duv. Then he turned face-on to Duv. "But tell me, Dr Galeni. You have my ear until we get back to the site. How would you improve the history syllabus?" 

"The study of history is always politicised," Duv said carefully. "It can't help but be: all stories are told from someone's perspective, even if it looks like they aren't. But ... this is taken to extremes here, especially in the school-level studies. At undergraduate level and beyond, it's impossible to avoid understanding the complexities, but your average person leaves school with a very ... particular view of Barrayaran history. On Komarr, there's a constant cultural dissonance between that and the, the background opinions of the average Komarran, which seems to be leading to a younger generation with a very cynical outlook. On Barrayar ... the lack of questioning and examining is noticeable." He ran dry, trying and failing to find a way to say 'your ordinary history teaching is little more than brainwashing' without actually saying that. "The history of Barrayar is rich and fascinating and complicated and difficult," he tried. "I love it. But ... very little of that comes across to the average student." 

"They learn about our great heroes," Vorkosigan protested. "Surely that's plenty of fascination and beauty, learning about their struggles and battles." 

"But they don't learn about their opponents. Who were also fascinating, and who were people with layers of complexity behind their behaviour." 

Vorkosigan leaned back in the seat, his eyes disturbingly intent, and Duv had the sense that his attention had become an order of magnitude greater. "You are correct, of course. History is political, and we wish to teach a common story. Barrayar is very young, you know, compared to Komarr. It wasn't until Dorca that we had anything even resembling planetary unity, and then the Cetagandans came, and after that Yuri's civil war. After all that, it's important to provide the people with a clear story of Barrayar as a single entity, of Barrayarans working together for success. That is, as you put it, the perspective from which we wish to tell the story, and so we leave many of the complexities out, for the sake of peace and stability."

Duv opened his mouth, then closed it again. Peace and stability. Why else was he here, after all, if not because he wanted peace and stability on Komarr, and was willing to sacrifice a great deal to gain it?

"But still," Vorkosigan went on, "perhaps it's time to make some changes. And as you say, the Komarran students are starting from a different position altogether. It's a worthwhile topic to examine." He caught Duv's eye and gave a sharp smile, and again Duv was reminded of his theory that Vorkosigans had x-ray vision. "I think you understand what I'm trying to do, what we're trying to do. When this is over, write me a memo on the topic. How you would modify the history syllabus on Barrayar and especially here, given the need to maintain peace and stability. I'll consider it." 

Duv blinked. "But--"

"I value your judgment, Dr Galeni. Your recommendations would be of interest to me." 

Duv was still trying to think of something to say to this when they reached the bomb site, and the history syllabus was superseded by the ongoing investigation. Vorkosigan's detail immediately spread out over the area, no doubt getting in everyone's way, and Duv was distracted from the Barrayaran educational system by the need to talk to everyone and check up on progress. 

Vorkosigan tailed him quietly. "Don't mind me," he said, an impossible instruction if ever there was one. "I just want to look around and see how things are going." 

Ignoring Vorkosigan wasn't too difficult at the start, as Duv listened to the men on-site describe how the investigation was going and what they had found, and was shown all the potentially interesting pieces of evidence, none of which struck Duv as particularly useful. But you never knew: he'd seen investigations come together from even less promising material. They walked down a side street and into a partially built area, construction machines all waiting to resume their work once this Barrayaran visit was over. 

"This is where we found Tsolakoglou, sir."

Duv stood still. The spot had been cleaned out, all the forensic evidence collected, every trace of his man gone, but this was the first man to die in action under his command. He had been alone, without backup, without the support ImpSec promised to give its members. Duv stared grimly ahead, able to picture it all too easily. Vorkosigan, behind him, seemed similarly sombre. 

"Thank you," Duv said mechanically. "Keep looking for ways he could have been taken by surprise. Carry on, Corporal." He turned to continue his tour of the site. 

They couldn't get close to the crater the bomb had left: the whole area was fenced off and deserted apart from some specialists with grav-belts and force-bubbles around them to protect them from sudden slips in the rubble. But they could walk back along the street, past where they had sheltered from the disruptor fire and back towards the original domes they had been inspecting. Duv was silent, scanning the area, and Vorkosigan was managing to efface himself surprisingly well. 

They came up alongside a damaged building where Kaygill had been captured, which was still bustling with ImpSec activity. Duv gazed up at the spot the shots had come from, and frowned thoughtfully, considering the line of fire. It still confused him that the shooter had kept missing. He scanned back and forth, assessing the light and obstructions and accuracy of the weapon. 

It was pure chance that he was looking up at the right moment. He abruptly shoved Vorkosigan sideways, Vorkosigan's ImpSec men moved convulsively--and the hunk of plascrete came crashing down where Vorkosigan's head had been a moment earlier. It smashed as it landed, sending up a cloud of dust and fragments. Duv ducked, still pushing Vorkosigan away, and then half a dozen ImpSec men grabbed them both. Vorkosigan shook everyone off, coughed and wiped his face, then said, "I didn't think I'd have to bring an umbrella on Komarr." 

His ImpSec men gave relieved laughs, Duv managed to shake off his own would-be rescuers and looked up again. There was something... he took hold of Vorkosigan's arm again and said quietly, "Get in the car, please, sir." Vorkosigan went with him, unexpectedly docile, and Duv opened the rear hatch of the decoy car, currently standing empty while its driver took a break. 

Vorkosigan sat down, waving away his men, who stood outside. "What's this about, Captain?" he said.

"Your face is bleeding, sir," Duv said distractedly, reaching for the first-aid kit. His hands were shaking a little with reaction. "That didn't fall by accident."

Vorkosigan's hand, reaching up to probe his cheek, moved instead to the butt of his nerve disruptor. "Are you sure?"

"Not completely," Duv admitted. "I could be jumping at shadows. But the safety engineer has been over this whole site, and I know him, he's got thirty years of experience at this. And we were up there earlier and I saw that chunk of plascrete. It was a good ten centimetres from the edge. And there were people up there. It was pushed."

"Or knocked by accident," Vorkosigan said. "There could be some poor security guard about to shoot himself for his own carelessness up there now."

"In that case we'll hear about it in a few minutes," Duv said. "But that, and the rest of it ... I don't think you can trust everyone here, sir. Maybe among my men, maybe yours. There's something wrong."

Vorkosigan watched him with predatory stillness. "Is that so?" he murmured. "Well, Captain. And whom shall I trust now? A potentially traitor-ridden Barrayaran ImpSec, or a Komarran ex-terrorist?" Duv went absolutely rigid, and Vorkosigan flashed him a peculiar grin. "The Butcher of Komarr is allowed to say things like that," he informed Duv. "Besides, you're _my_ Komarran terrorist. I think you may be right, Captain, but nonetheless, I am going to stay here for now. It's only two hours till I give my speech. Besides, ImpSec can't all be rotten." 

The driver of the groundcar returned then and took his place in the seat. Duv stiffened again, but Vorkosigan said, "Sigur here is a District man." The driver turned to smile proudly at Vorkosigan. "He's served in my detail for ten years, isn't that right?" 

"Almost eleven now, sir," Sigur returned. 

"Excellent. Now, Captain, as it happens, I think you're right. I've remembered what it was I saw, just before the shooting started. A green uniform, in the corner of my eye." 

Presented with this information, Duv frowned. "Could have been one of your own detail, though. The only people who should have been around would have been in Barrayaran uniform. It doesn't prove anything." 

"I'm aware of this. Nonetheless, I'm not sure I would have noticed uniforms where they ought to have been. But I can't remember where precisely it was I saw it. Aren't these domes monitored?" 

"Not yet. Unfortunately. They would have been putting the security cams in next week. Though they wouldn't, in the usual course, have switched them on until it was fully opened." 

He opened the first aid kit and located some antiseptic wipes. Vorkosigan mopped at his face with one. It was a small cut, superficial and harmless, and Duv relaxed a little. 

"I think you should return to HQ immediately, sir," he said, picking up the thread of his argument. "And then it might be best if you go straight up to the fleet." On the flagship of the Komarr Fleet, surely a rogue ImpSec agent would have a much harder time getting through. 

"Not until I've given this speech," Vorkosigan returned instantly. "I've already been around this with Tomlinson six times, Captain. Once I've given the speech, then perhaps I'll go up to the flagship. It will still look bad, but not as bad as missing the speech altogether. But for now I'll return to base with you." He leaned forward to say as much to Sigur, who spoke to the rest of the ImpSec detail, and the groundcar set off. "Slap a bit of surgical glue on this, if you don't mind, Captain. I don't want to be dripping blood when I get back, everyone will get excited." 

"Don't you want a medic--"

"It's tiny, Captain, just get on with it." 

"Yes, sir." 

Vorkosigan was necessarily silent as Duv leaned forward and very gingerly cleaned the cut and sealed it with a drop of surgical glue. It would have been easier if he'd dared hold Vorkosigan's head steady with his free hand, but the familiarity seemed a little too far. Fortunately, he managed not to botch it. 

"Thanks," Vorkosigan said. "By the way, Captain, are you coming to the speech? I imagine it would be of particular interest to you." 

Duv frowned. "It is very much of interest, but given this new crisis, I don't imagine I'll have the time for it now." 

"Come anyway," Vorkosigan said. "I'd like you to be there. The investigation won't fall apart without you there constantly on top of it." He gave a sudden grin. "Believe me, I know about getting away from work. You have to be ruthless." 

Easier to be ruthless when you didn't have a superior officer to critique your every move, Duv thought. Though he could hardly say Vorkosigan didn't know about responsibility. 

"I know you'll have an ImpSec team of your own there," Vorkosigan went on, "so just tag along with them, and step in for long enough to hear the speech. After all, I wouldn't be making it at all today if not for you." 

Duv looked away. "I'll come," he said at last. "Thank you, sir." 

Back at HQ, he wrote up his own account of the incident with the plascrete block and checked it against the other data that had come in. It was officially listed as an accident, though nobody had owned up to knocking the block off or disturbing the rubble there in any way. But Duv remained sure it wasn't an accident.

He needed to figure out what was going on here, and do it soon, before Vorkosigan made a public appearance. Major Tomlinson had vastly tightened security for the speech, and Duv supposed it was as good as it was going to get, but he still felt considerable sympathy for the major's obvious wish to lock Vorkosigan into a bunker until this was cleared up. 

The nerve disruptor Kaygill had been found holding had been traced: bought three days ago in a dodgy transaction in the shuttleport district. Identifying the purchaser was going to take longer, since the illegal sale had not been well recorded. Bouvier had a team going through security vid footage of the area in the hope of spotting Kaygill or one of his associates. The bomb likewise had been assembled from illegally purchased material. All the sellers were already known to ImpSec, which Duv found frustrating. There were too many small-time criminals, and not enough time or resources to pursue them all. 

And they were no further towards figuring out what had happened to Tsolakoglou, which Duv found the most frustrating, and most alarming, thing of all. ImpSec took care of its own: that was one of the few things he could unambiguously love about the organisation, but now one of his own men had been killed in action and he had no idea what had happened. 

He sat staring at the data and puzzling over it until there was a knock at his office door. 

"Sir?" Zelanov said. "If you were planning to accompany the Prime Minister to his speech, we need to head out now." 

"Oh, yes," Duv said. "Thank you. Are all the security arrangements settled?"

"Yes, sir. We've got the extra detachment of men from HQ, and they've removed six of the guests. Major Tomlinson is ... well, not exactly happy, but he's stopped arguing."

"Good." Duv got into the groundcar and sat down, still feeling stiff and sore from earlier. He saw the evidence of the increased security when his ImpSec-marked vehicle went through exhaustive scanning before he was permitted to enter the outer perimeter set up around the building where Vorkosigan was giving his speech. Under the circumstances, he couldn't really argue. But the nagging fear that perhaps all this attention was aimed in the wrong direction wouldn't leave him. Tsolakoglou had started off in the marines before transferring to ImpSec. There was no way Kaygill could have got the drop on him, even with surprise on his side. And there was still the bomb. He would believe one lucky break for their assassin, but to catch Tsolakoglou off-guard and get the bomb past the area scan _and_ put it the right place to catch the response team... it was impossible. 

He had nothing official to do here, so he wandered around with an eye on everything. Tomlinson's men were hard at work; Zelanov and his team were equally busy liaising with them and the other local ImpSec men here. The auditorium was filling up as the carefully screened guests were admitted; they were circulating with drinks and chatter. Duv passed briefly through them, feeling little connection with either the Barrayaran government officers or the Komarran civilians, and found his way backstage to where Vorkosigan was preparing, surrounded by a crowd of staffers and ImpSec agents. Vorkosigan was holding a sheaf of flimsies and scanning through them even as he talked to his secretary. He didn't seem in the least nervous about giving a speech that would change the lives of hundreds of thousands of Komarrans. In fact, he looked as calm and controlled as he had been under fire a few hours ago. Vorkosigan spoke again to his secretary, and the man turned to the rest of the crowd. "Please clear the room."

Everyone meekly made their way out again. Duv folded his arms and leaned against the wall in the corridor outside, and most of the rest of the staffers dispersed about their work. He could faintly hear Vorkosigan's voice inside, rehearsing some key parts of his speech. The corridor was very quiet, the hum from the auditorium gone as some of the other dignitaries involved began to make their speeches. He considered going into the hall, but thought perhaps it would be better just to watch quietly from the wings, blending in with the other ImpSec men. 

The guards moved to the ends of the corridor, sealing it off, and Duv was alone. Then Lieutenant Zelanov came past, humming under his breath.

"Oh, there you are, Captain," he said. "The Prime Minister was asking for you."

Duv wondered why Vorkosigan hadn't just opened the door and called him in. But then, Vorkosigan couldn't have known that he had elected to stand here. He nodded, then caught a snatch of what Zelanov had been humming.

_The Maid of the Moor._

He turned to look at Zelanov, and he put his hand on the butt of his nerve disruptor. Zelanov opened the door and nodded him to enter, smiling. Duv began to turn, but all at once he felt Zelanov's own nerve disruptor against his spine.

"Go in, Captain," Zelanov said sweetly. "Right on in." He propelled Duv in with hard shove and swung the door shut behind him. 

"My lord!" Duv shouted in warning, and Zelanov snarled and punched him in the kidneys. Duv doubled over, and Zelanov held the disruptor to his skull.

"Security!" Vorkosigan snapped. 

Zelanov gave an edged laugh. "Don't worry, Vorkosigan. Your security knows everything is perfectly safe in here. That's what their vid feeds and sound pickups are telling them. And you have two ImpSec officers with you already." He shoved Duv forwards, and Duv stared around, trying to think. Vorkosigan was standing still, in the centre of the room... there were two exits ...

"Get out, sir," he said, a little hoarsely. "Run. Now. There's time." 

"If you move," Zelanov countered, "I'll shoot your little Komarran pet."

"I took an oath to serve in life or death, sir, _get out_!" 

"But I want you to serve in life, Captain," Vorkosigan said, his voice oddly mild. He didn't move. Duv felt like he might burst from frustration. "And you took that oath too, Lieutenant Zelanov. What are you doing in this?" 

"I took an oath to serve the Emperor and Barrayar," Zelanov said. "Not you. And you've betrayed Barrayar, betrayed her a thousand times over. I saw men, I saw my friends, bleed and die so that we could have control of these shitholes of domes, and now you're just going to give it all back to the Komarrans, as if their blood didn't matter at all. Well, it matters to me." 

"Your friends bled and died so that we could have peace here. I don't ever forget their sacrifices. And this is what peace looks like." 

"This is surrender," Zelanov snarled. He pressed the disruptor harder into Duv's skull. "Draw your own disruptor," he said. "Slowly. And shoot Vorkosigan."

Duv heard himself give a short laugh, some amazingly calm part of his mind taking over.

"You're an idiot, Vadim. You're obviously going to kill me either way, so why should I make this easy for you?"

Vorkosigan was standing very still.

"Go, sir," Duv said quietly. "There's time. Get out, for heaven's sake."

"If you make a sound or move a muscle," Zelanov countered, "I'll shoot him now. Your pet Komarran. You make me sick, the way you cosset them. The only good Komarran is a dead Komarran. Do you know what I've seen them do ... we should have just nuked the planet as soon as they offered resistance, it would have been easy. But you were soft." He grinned. "But after this, everyone will agree with me. Poor Admiral Vorkosigan, murdered because he was soft enough to keep a tiger for a pet. We won't ease up on them after this, none of this 'turning police matters over to local control' idiocy. It's just surrender, that's what it is. Surrender because you haven't got the balls your father did, to kill as many Komarrans as it takes to make them shut up."

"Did you kill Kaygill?" Duv demanded. "You set it all up, didn't you? Spun him some bullshit line last night to trick him to being at the dome, then framed him for this." 

He exhaled slowly, clearing his mind. Zelanov could only shoot them one at a time. Vorkosigan wasn't going to be sensible and run. Duv supposed he was already dead, no chance of escape from this. But there was a chance he could take Zelanov with him before Zelanov could get Vorkosigan. 

"Komarran scum," Zelanov was answering. "I should have known you would stick together and refuse to believe it. Bouvier would have believed it. He will believe it, when it turns out you shot Vorkosigan. Everyone will believe it." 

Something flashed in Vorkosigan's eyes. "My son will not believe it," he said. "And he will persuade the Emperor. Your plan is doomed, Lieutenant." 

Zelanov glared at Vorkosigan. "Your mutant son--" he began fiercely, and Duv made his move. 

The disruptor went off as Duv hurled himself sideways into Zelanov's arm, the beam splashing harmlessly against the wall. Momentum carried them both over, Duv on top, and they wrestled for a desperate minute, the disruptor firing again into the floor. And instead of running or ducking or getting help, Vorkosigan was suddenly right there, in the melee, his knee meeting Zelanov's chest with a hard thud. Duv got control of the disruptor, Zelanov lunged furiously at Vorkosigan, and Duv smashed the disruptor into the base of Zelanov's skull. He staggered, then fell, pulling Vorkosigan down with him. Duv flung himself forwards again, heaving Vorkosigan bodily away from Zelanov, interposing himself, but Zelanov was dazed from the blow. Duv snatched out his stunner and shot him at point-blank range, his lips drawn back in a snarl. 

"Fuck you and your plans," he growled, breathing hard. He holstered the stunner and turned to Vorkosigan, extending his hands to help him up. "Are you hurt?" he demanded.

Vorkosigan shook his head, taking both of Duv's hands to pull himself to his feet. He was breathless, eyes wide with the release of tension, looking as adrenalin-shocky as Duv felt. 

"It's been a while," he said, his gaze locked on Duv, "since people have tried to kill me three times in one day. Fine work, Captain."

Duv gazed back. Vorkosigan released his hands, but instead gripped Duv by both arms. If it had been anyone else, Duv would have thrown them off, but this was Vorkosigan, and Duv couldn't move. 

They stood together for a heartbeat, eyes locked, then Vorkosigan took a step back as if faltering on his feet, coming up to rest against the wall, drawing Duv with him, his mouth slightly open. The invitation was unmistakeable, and so too was the fact that Duv could simply pull away and it would all be over, deniable and forgotten.

Perhaps, Duv thought wildly, those stories of his father's hadn't been lies after all. His remembered, in a sudden painful flash, his father pacing across the room as he sat bound on the chair, demanding, "Perhaps you get off on it? You get off on the idea of the Butcher bending you over his desk, is that it?" He'd been able to say no, no, he didn't fantasise about that, but the small part of his mind that retained awareness even under fast-penta had known that if his father had phrased the question just a little differently, he'd have given a different answer.

And now he had the Butcher up against a wall, about as close as such a man could get to an engraved invitation. Duv leaned forward and pressed his mouth to Vorkosigan's. 

There was a truly appalling moment when he thought perhaps he'd misread the entire situation, but then Vorkosigan pulled him in and kissed him back. 

Fantasies, Duv thought, were all well and good, but they could never prepare you for reality. Not for the feel of Vorkosigan's mouth against his, the strength in his jaw, the heat of his body pressed against the wall, leashed power. Duv knew he was being allowed to do this, and that thought suddenly made him angry, in the midst of the lust and adrenalin, and he pushed inwards, aware for the first time that he was taller than Vorkosigan and broader in the shoulders, not to mention younger, teeth briefly joining lips and tongue. Vorkosigan made a strange sound at the back of his thoat, and Duv's hands bit down. 

The other thing fantasies hadn't prepared him for was how good Vorkosigan was at this. Something to be said for experience, no doubt. Duv's terror and anger began to convert itself into urgent need. They could...

Sanity returned in a rush, and he jerked away. Vorkosigan let him go at once, but his eyes tracked Duv's every movement. 

"Sir," Duv said frozenly.

Vorkosigan was breathing hard, and Duv had to force himself not to look, because Vorkosigan's lips were slightly swollen, and Duv couldn't regret it as much as he ought. He couldn't move, couldn't think. 

Vorkosigan came to his rescue. Incredibly, he smiled, a generous and relaxed smile, and said, "That's very traditional, you know, after saving someone's life so spectacularly." He put his hand over his heart and made a small bow. Duv's spine jerked him to attention without consulting the rest of his brain, and Vorkosigan nodded. 

_I enjoyed that, you enjoyed that, but it's not possible, so let's get over this heavy ground as lightly as we may._ The message passed between them without words, and Duv found himself saying in an impossibly calm voice, "I need to get started on the cleanup for this now." 

"Yes," Vorkosigan said, "and I need to go and make a speech before the security lockdown stops me. I'm relying on you to hold them back and let me finish." 

Duv gave a quick nod, and dodging the intensity in Vorkosigan's gaze he bent down and began to collect the notes scattered on the floor, ordering them automatically as he went. Vorkosigan caught him by the elbow as he stood, accepting the notes. "Thank you, Captain Galeni," he said quietly. He reached up and cupped Duv's cheek in his hand for a moment, looking into his face, and Duv stood as blinded by his gaze as if it were a searchlight picking him out. Then Vorkosigan turned and went out towards the stage. 

For a moment Duv stood still, barely breathing, watching where Vorkosigan had gone. Then he forced his attention back to Zelanov, who was breathing stentortously on the floor. Time for the mopping up. 

The fuss threatened to go on forever once Duv alerted the guard: carrying the stunned Zelanov away to be detained, revived and fast-pentaed without delay, explaning everything to Major Tomlinson, who seemed likely to explode, and repeating the story over and over again, omitting only the kiss. As Vorkosigan had predicted, Major Tomlinson wanted to stop the speech and drag Vorkosigan off the stage and back into a bunker, and it took all Duv's determination and forcefulness to hold him back, repeating that the threat was over and the would-be assassin caught. It was only by pointing out that nobody could get the rest of the story until Vorkosigan came back from the speech that he managed to get away to the auditorium at last near the end of the speech, standing in the wings behind a pair of extremely tense guards and watching Vorkosigan side-on. 

He was speaking without reference to his autoprompter, gaze on the audience, moving slightly to the rhythm of his words. It was mesmerising, and the audience was responding, their attention rapt upon Vorkosigan. Duv couldn't blame them. 

"We want Komarr to be as much a part of the Empire as Barrayar, to be honoured and trusted as such. And gestures of trust must go both ways. Last year, the Union of Komarran Fleets agreed to accept Barrayaran military escorts on certain routes, a gesture of trust. Now we are giving the Komarran Sectors the same status as the South Continent, with the same degree of self-governance and the same status for their police and other security forces." 

Duv listened and felt a mix of pain and pleasure. For Komarr to be equal with Barrayar was a great thing, was why he was here and what he had signed up for. But he couldn't help wanting Barrayar to be equal with Komarr, not bringing the Komarrans down to Barrayaran levels of freedom and equality, but raising Barrayarans. Komarr hadn't been a paradise before the invasion, but there was so much Barrayar could gain from Komarran ways, if only they would accept it. 

But this was what Vorkosigan could do. The speech wound to its close and everyone cheered. Vorkosigan was smiling as he turned away; he caught Duv's eye and gave a small nod. Duv bowed his head in acknowledgement. Then he headed back to deal with the rest of the clean-up. 

Vorkosigan rejoined them almost two hours later, after some closely-supervised mingling with the most senior guests. Major Tomlinson was still at his elbow, looking harried. Duv went over and waited until he could get a word in edgewise as Vorkosigan spoke to all his staff. 

"Well, Captain, and did you like the speech?" Vorkosigan said, turning suddenly to him. 

"Yes, sir," Duv said, muted praise, but there was no way he could publicly say all the things he had thought. "They've started the fast-penta interrogation of Lieutenant Zelanov, sir, and I've just had the preliminary report. He admits to planning all three of the attacks and murdering Tsolakoglou, who was specifically chosen because of his Greek background. He lured Kaygill to the dome under the belief that he was going to present a petition to you; he then lightly stunned him and got him into position with the nerve disruptor. Apparently Kaygill put up more resistance than he anticipated to the idea of shooting you, which is why Zelanov kept missing." 

"Ah." Vorkosigan sighed. "I think I need more Komarrans in my personal guard. Please make sure this information is passed on to Ms Etters. I don't know whether she'd appreciate my thanks or not." 

Duv tried to picture it, and sighed. "She'll be glad to know Isambard wasn't an assassin. And furious that he was murdered by a Barrayaran." 

"Yes," Vorkosigan said slowly. "Make sure she knows that Zelanov will be punished for that, as well as for his attempts on my life and yours. And there will be no interference from Barrayar on any local prosecution. I owe him that much, and more. Have you turned up any co-conspirators?" 

"Not yet. I'm not anticipating any. If Zelanov had been communicating with any other disaffected people, had been discussing this, there would have been a trace, we might have spotted it. But a resourceful man, working alone, can do a lot without being noticed." He straightened the folders of flimsies. "At least it seems the threat against you is now at an end." 

"Major Tomlinson still wants me to remain at your base overnight. I think I'll let him indulge his paranoia, if you don't mind." 

"Certainly, sir." 

An aide's commlink beeped. "Your groundcar is ready, sir," he said. 

"Thank you. Will you ride with me, Captain, since we're going back to your base?" It was, unexpectedly, a question rather than an order, leaving him space to decline. He hesitated, then nodded. The remaining paperwork he mentally consigned to perdition. The important parts would no doubt find their way to his office soon enough, and the rest--well, if it didn't, it wasn't important. 

They went out into the sealed-off streets. There was a crowd gathered outside, behind a force-screen, waiting in silence for Vorkosigan. Vorkosigan looked up at them.

"You should go straight to the groundcar, sir," Duv said, familiar with these crowds and their intent. But Vorkosigan gave a little shake of his head and went over.

"Good evening," he said. "I'm sorry to have brought trouble on your new dome. I assure you that the repairs will proceed immediately." 

The crowd merely stared in silence. Vorkosigan smiled at a middle-aged woman at the front. "Why have you come to see me?" he asked. "Is there anything you want to ask me?"

In answer, the woman said, "I came to do this, Butcher," and spat at the force-screen, making it hiss. Her eyes blazed. Duv and Tomlinson both twitched. 

"Sir," Tomlinson said, gesturing towards the car. His eyes fixed on the angry woman, Vorkosigan allowed them to escort him away. 

He was entirely silent on the journey back to the post. Duv made no attempt to start a conversation, his eyes flicking to and away from Vorkosigan's grim face. When they reached the compound and he got out at the entrance to Duv's apartment, he said, "I need a drink. Do you have anything in your rooms, Captain?"

"Yes, sir," Duv said. He paused, uncertain of what the question implied or what he wanted it to imply. But he knew he did not want to go away straight to the camp-bed in his office. "Would you like me to come in and show you what there is?"

"Thank you, Captain," was all Vorkosigan said in response. "That would be most kind." 

They climbed up the stairs to Duv's apartment, which was above the main offices. At the top, Tomlinson's man came out, said, "All clear, sir," and they went in. The door swung shut behind them, and Duv was alone with the Butcher of Komarr. Whom he had kissed a few hours ago. He sat down heavily on Duv's sofa and closed his eyes. 

Duv went to his kitchenette. He doubted he had anything that a high Vor was used to drinking. A touch defiantly, he brought out a bottle of Komarran herbal liqueur, a traditional drink that he'd missed on Barrayar. He poured two shots, sat down alongside Vorkosigan on his sofa and took the first sip, then unfastened his high collar and leaned back. He was off-duty at last. But despite the gestures of relaxation, he felt anything but relaxed. He was ferociously conscious of Vorkosigan beside him taking his own sip of the liqueur, conscious of his every tiny movement and his steady breathing. 

He was afraid that Vorkosigan would start some Betan-style conversation about what had happened earlier. Of the kiss. He didn't want that discussion, didn't want to try to take his thoughts apart and decide whether he felt guilty or unsatisfied or hopeful or pleased or anything. 

But when Vorkosigan broke the silence, draining his glass, he spoke of politics instead. "Is this going to make any difference, Captain? This new decision, or any of the initiatives I've pushed through over the years? No matter what I try, it seems, the hatred never grows any less. From Komarrans and Barrayarans both. Sometimes I think that it will never be possible to mend this broken beginning, and I don't know when the fighting will stop." 

He looked directly at Duv as he spoke. When they'd spoken of politics before, he'd been aware he was dealing with Vorkosigan as a politician, experienced and charismatic and shrewd. This was different: now Vorkosigan's own true fears and doubts were naked on his face. He felt a queasy swirl of dismay in his stomach. 

But Vorkosigan's honesty drew out his own. He'd crossed one line with Vorkosigan earlier today. This one was harder. "I don't know. But sometimes I think, on Komarr, that that isn't the right question. The question is, when will we give up? When will we forget who we were, and stand alone in the dark and cry that we don't know who we are any more, and turn to the only thing left? When will we lose hope of freedom?" 

Vorkosigan went still, hand holding the shot glass halfway to his mouth. "Is that why you're here? Because you lost hope?" 

"I... don't know." He felt it, sometimes, when he'd struggled through another day of Komarrans hating him for being too Barrayaran and Barrayarans hating him for being too Komarran. "But I wonder if... if I'd be happier if I still dreamt of freedom for Komarr."

"Your actions," Vorkosigan responded, "are not the actions of a man who lacks hope in the future." He paused. "I think your father is framing your thinking right now."

Duv stood up abruptly. "You don't know what you're talking about." He paced across the room, which suddenly felt much too small. Vorkosigan's gaze tracked him.

"I know exactly what I'm talking about," he said. "My father used to frame my thinking all the time."

Duv folded his arms, backed against the opposite wall. "I started off with hope," he said at last. "Do you know why I'm here? I heard your speech. When you opened the military to Komarrans. The next day, I turned down the professorship and began preparing for the entrance examinations for the Academy. You said 'between justice and genocide there is, in the long run, no middle ground' and I thought that if you really meant that, if that was what you were trying to do here, then I wanted to be a part of it. But now... now it looks to me like you're trying to set up home on that middle ground."

He took two deliberate steps closer to Vorkosigan. "Did you mean it, sir? Every day the injustices fester a little more, and grow harder to repair and to heal. I gave up everything for you, for this, but when I look around I can't see whether we're heading towards justice or genocide."

Vorkosigan looked up at him, his eyes as weary as if he were older than the galaxy. "What would you have me do?" 

And that was the problem. Duv knew Vorkosigan's side of the story. He'd studied it, he'd analysed it, he'd immersed himself in it. He understood as thoroughly as any Komarran ever could why the Barrayarans wanted Komarr, why they believed they would perish if they allowed their grip on the planet to slacken even the slightest. He knew how vast the gap was between what he wanted and what Vorkosigan would ever do. He'd known before he got himself into this situation. But still, he wanted to rail at Vorkosigan. _You're the political genius here! Solve this!_

"What would you do?" he asked instead. "If you didn't have to force it all through the Councils first? If you could muzzle the General Staff? What would you do?" 

For a moment Vorkosigan's face creased with true anger, and Duv flinched as if he'd been slapped. Then Vorkosigan sighed. "You're still very young, Captain. Sit down." He opened his palm invitingly towards the sofa. Duv sat. 

"You want to know what I would do if I really was the absolute monarch some believe me to be?" Vorkosigan said once he was seated. "I don't want the planet. I never wanted the planet, I said it was a liability, but Ezar wanted it for the additional tax revenues and it was one of his victory conditions on the invasion, so I wrote the plan for it. I'd let you go. Keep all the space installations, keep our wormhole fortifications, keep the line of supply to Sergyar open, cream off the wormhole tariffs for ourselves and let the planet go. It's of very little use for resupply or troop garrisons or anything else--not a lot of natural resources, apart from the gravity you may as well work from a space station or asteroid as from Komarr, and there's nothing you can do to us as long as we hold the wormholes."

Duv grimaced. "The wormhole tariffs were our hope for terraforming this place," he said.

"I know, but even if I grant the idea that the planet belongs to its inhabitants, the wormholes don't belong to the planet. They belong to whoever can hold them. And we can."

Duv didn't argue with that. He let himself lean back against the sofa, suddenly utterly shattered, becoming aware that he'd just added two shots of liqueur to the lingering remains of a stunner hangover at the end of one of the most exhausting days of his life. He hoped Vorkosigan wasn't too offended by what he'd said, because he didn't think he had the energy to leave. But instead, Vorkosigan simply continued to speak, as if Duv had triggered a waterfall of words, of a political honesty no politician could present to the world. 

"It all looked so clear, you know, when I was planning the invasion. We had arrangements and deals with a lot of the oligarchs and counsellors. I don't think I was deceiving myself that it would be simple, but ... it was possible There were enough prominent Komarrans willing to accept being absorbed by us as the lesser evil and bring their clans with them. All politics is about choosing the lesser evil, I've found, and they were good politicians. And the possibility of cooperation meant that our own ministers, and Ezar himself, were willing to accept a much looser hold on the planet. You'd have had your own independent police force all along, in my original plan, and plenty of other independences as well. Not that I could have said that, tonight." He took a long swallow of the liqueur. "But then ... it all fell apart, and I've been scrambling after the pieces ever since. You don't need me to tell you about the Komarran side, but Zelanov's views aren't uncommon on Barrayar. I've heard the same arguments in the Councils and on the General Staff, dozens of times. I have to spend all my time placating and buying them off to get a fraction of what I want done." He reached out as he spoke and put his hand on Duv's arm, heavy and warm. "And then someone like you comes along, and I think, perhaps it could have been like this all along. I am still hoping, still fighting, for justice above genocide, Duv. Don't give up on it. Especially not you." 

Duv froze at the touch, the casual Barrayaran gesture too fraught with multiple meanings. Vorkosigan seemed to realise what he'd done and remember, for he drew back quickly, and that was worse. 

He'd kissed this man today, and heard him speak more frankly and personally on politics than any other Komarran ever would, Duv thought. It was foolish to pretend there was no intimacy here now. So in answer he leaned in, close enough to Vorkosigan's side that he could feel his body heat without touching him. Vorkosigan relaxed again, and looked at him. 

"You give me so much hope. And then you fling yourself into nerve disruptor fire on my behalf." Vorkosigan's other hand moved, lightly touching the contusion on his cheek. "It's not worth it, Duv. Barrayar--and Komarr--need you far more than me, now." 

Duv tilted his head to meet Vorkosigan's eye. "I know I'll stay," he said. "I'm committed to this path now. I just wish--" 

He trailed off. Vorkosigan made an encouraging noise, and Duv summoned courage. 

"I just wish I could _know_. Know that it was the right path for Komarr, the best chance of peace, the best chance of a stable future. I've thought and thought, I've listened to the other arguments--" he swallowed, thinking of his father's ranting as he sat trying to finish his schoolwork "--and this is the best I can see. But what if I'm wrong? What if I should be doing something completely different?" He closed his eyes for a moment. "My father never had these doubts," he said quietly. "Or if he did, he never mentioned them. What if he was right after all?" 

That was the fear he'd never given voice to before, the one he'd barely dared look at before. It seemed to land at the Butcher's feet like a needle-pierced corpse. Duv didn't dare meet his eye. 

But Vorkosigan's voice was calm as he answered. "You can't ever know the answer to that. He could have been. Not because he had no doubts; fanatics rarely suffer doubt; but that doesn't make them right, it just means they haven't even tried to comprehend the situation from other angles. You have. I don't know the answer to your question any more than you do. I am bound to my course, I've been bound to it since I agreed to the invasion, and all I can tell you is this: I will not give up trying to bring as much peace and prosperity to Komarr as I can. That is my goal, and if you are with me, with us, then you will be working towards that goal. More than that nobody can promise you, not on any path. You can't do more than choose as best you can from what you can see right now. This isn't history, not yet, you can't see all the options and weigh them up in the knowledge of how they will turn out, and you can't dwell on fantasy might-have-beens. You can only see what's here in the present moment, in reality." 

Reality. The word flashed Duv back to that moment when he'd held Vorkosigan to the wall. But that in the end had been fantasy, fantasy for both of them, briefly given life but impossible to sustain. This, though, this sitting in his apartment talking politics with the Butcher over a drink: this was reality. He turned his face towards Vorkosigan, layers of pride and protection drawn back to expose himself in a nakedness more fundamental than any removal of clothing could be. Vorkosigan touched his cheek again, cupping his face in his hand, and pulled his head down to kiss his forehead. Duv sighed, releasing loneliness and mistrust, and bowed his head. 

"Yes," he said quietly, "the reality's not so bad."


End file.
